MattxMello: The Irish Anthem
by erinjohnston
Summary: An alternate ending for Matt and Mello if they were to live in Ireland. Includes the Irish Anthem. .


_**Soldiers are we,**_

Mello opened up his wardrobe for the final time, to put on his uniform for what could be the final time. He didn't dare imagine what this final voyage was going to be like, but as stripped down to his underwear in the tiny apartment, he knew for certain this was the end.

The shoulder-length blonde haired 19 year old stood stark naked in front of the long mirror, taking a good hard look at himself. He didn't even recognise the person standing there anymore. His eyes, once bright sky blue and young as an immortal, now were an icy grey-blue of a shade, surrounded with creases of stress, worry and anger.

Once upon a time when he had joined the Irish Army he had been a well-built muscular soldier. But now he was emaciatingly thin from the amount of times he had recently skipped meals over grief of Matt.

Matt.

_**Whose lives are pledged to Ireland,**_

As he tied his smooth hair back into a ponytail, and dressed into the midnight black uniform, he still stood in front of the mirror. Flashbacks of the last battle crept their way into his mind, haunting his brain. He started to shiver violently as he remembered. Matt, charging on his great stallion towards the Russian enemy. Matt, looking back at him and smiling, a smile that said "I'm gonna do this." Matt, as he shot his great black gun at the enemy, giving it his all.

Matt, as the enemy circled around him. Matt, looking helpless as the enemy retaliated. Matt, being blown to bits. Matt, falling from his horse to the uneven ground. Matt, as Mello ran towards his best friend only to see him stained red all over instead of just his hair.

Matt, his best friend, dying before his eyes for the love of a country that wasn't even his own.

_**Some have come from a land beyond the wave,**_

Matt had travelled all the way from America to enrol for the Irish Army at the same age as Mello. The two had met during training, and had hated each other at first, but after pricking each other with some foreign nettles found in the training centre, they had become the best of friends. Mello remembered t so vividly, Matts face swelling up to the size of a beach ball and turning as red as his hair.

When they left the training camp, they moved into an apartment together and only went to fight when called, which was twice every month. Mello still never understood why he had come all the way over to this crappy place. He had asked once but all he got was "I was bored, and had always loved this place. Plus, I could do with making myself useful and making a friend or two!"

_**Sworn to be free, no more our ancient sireland,**_

As Mello looked up into his mirror to check if he looked presentable, he realised he had been crying. He quickly wiped the tears away, they'd irritate his burn scar that ran halfway down his face anyway. He'd got that in battle too, with Matt. After coming out of hospital when the wounds had finally healed, Matt had been waiting at the door of their apartment. Mello had been really pissed off, he hated getting wounded, he already looked ugly enough, he thought anyway. But that night, Matt had reassured him. "You just look as sexy as ever, Mells, honestly," he had said, standing in the same mirror with him as he was doing now.

And that night, Matt became a little more than his best friend.

_**Shall shelter the despot or the slave,**_

The two both had something in common. As children, they'd been treated unfairly by their parents and had been deported to orphanages at the age of 12. Mello remembered painfully the cuts and bruises left behind by Matt's elders on his skinny limbs. They were almost going to whip him and make him their slave permanently. It angered Mello, even to remember the sadness left behind in the redheads eyes.

Before Mello left the apartment he now inhabited alone, he looked up in the mirror one last time, wiped away the remaining tears, gave a strong salute to his reflection and whispered "One last time. For Matt."

_**Tonight we man the "bearna baoil",**_

He arrived at Waterford's harbour and boarded the ship with the rest of his remaining comrades. Today, they were only travelling to Wales. There had been a disturbance with Italy, and they had organized to battle in Cardiff in a meadow. For the last time, Mello looked behind him at the distant outline of Ireland. He'd never see it again. He'd never even go to his home town, Cork, and see his parents again. But it didn't matter. He had to do this.

_**In Erin's cause, come woe or weal,**_

At last, the boat docked in Cardiff's harbour, and they all got off and marched to the meadow. It took over an hour to get there by foot, as they couldn't bring the horses on the boat with them.

Through the trees they could see the Italian army gathered into a strange but effective formation, guns loaded, kneeling down, ready to shoot. The Irish were concealed by the many trees and bushes when the commander ordered them to gather into their arrow formation quietly.

"Now!" yelled the aging commander.

And they charged.

_**Mid cannon's roar and rifles peal,**_

They had just ran halfway across the meadow towards the Italians when they all realised they were going to die. The Italians had been hiding a monstrous cannon behind a large oak, and had brought it out hearing the Irish command. The cannonfire deafened Mello, knocking him off balance many times.

But every time, he got back up, determined.

He had to do this.

He lifted out his air rifle and began to shoot at the enemy. The déja vu of this action blinded him, as a flashback of Matt doing the same came into his memory, repeating over and over in his mind.

_**We'll chant a soldier's song.**_

He stopped mid shooting, dropped the gun and closed his eyes. He was still standing, but he didn't have the will to fight anymore.

He just wanted to see Matt again. That's all he ever wanted since that day.

He let the image of Matt play over behind his closed eyelids. He heard the sound of a foreign gunshot. He didn't care. He heard a bullet whistling towards him. He didn't care. He felt the bullet pierce his chest with sharp force, and he didn't care.

As Mello fell to the ground, a different image played over in his mind. Matt, standing before him in training camp, with a huge grin across his pale face.

And as Mello fell to the ground, a wide smile spread across his too.


End file.
